


A Distinct Lack of Poetry

by misura



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28213110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Palamedes handles puberty very poorly, and with a lot of grumbling, wailing and annoying of his cavalier (but what else is new?).
Relationships: Camilla Hect/Palamedes Sextus
Comments: 12
Kudos: 28
Collections: Yuletide Madness 2020





	A Distinct Lack of Poetry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [opinionhaver69](https://archiveofourown.org/users/opinionhaver69/gifts).



> CNTW: technically underage?

"Argh," said Palamedes, by way of indicating he considered the current situation less than ideal.

He'd done his best, and so had Camilla: a fresh whiteboard, all the books he'd requested, a near-unending supply of flimsy to scribble his thoughts on - it should have worked.

Camilla gently punched his shoulder, which was to say it probably wouldn't bruise.

Palamedes decided not to waste flimsy on the thought that he'd be perfectly happy with a bruise, something that would remind him of Camilla even when she wasn't there, which logically would be in between 'never' and 'until death' so - how did people _handle_ this? all evidence suggested they did, that people habitually managed not to spend their entire puberty worshiping the object of their admittedly hormone boosted affections, and yet his own experience indicated this could not possibly be correct; he _wanted_ Camilla; he _lusted_ for Camilla - not necessarily in any carnal way, but -

Camilla punched him again, this time adding a "Warden!" to indicate she Meant Business.

"I'm _trying_ ," he said, suppressing a wince at the sound of his own voice. He wanted to suggest that maybe she should leave him to it, except that she would never - and he didn't have the least desire to be without her, anyway; it would be sheer hypocrisy to claim otherwise, and it might hurt her feelings besides, which would be unforgivable. "It's just - I seem to have some trouble focusing recently."

Camilla hadn't changed. Camilla was still Camilla, prone to overestimating his abilities, his intellect.

Hilarious, really: the entire Library viewed him as a genius, a child prodigy, made Warden at thirteen, and he'd always known to discount their opinions, because they didn't truly know him. Not the him that was Palamedes Sextus, necromancer to Camilla Hect. Pen pals with Dulcinea Septimus.

"Warden," repeated Camilla, letting her calm tone convey the fact that she was nearing the end of her patience. "You're talking nonsense, and we both know it. I could strip naked right now, and you wouldn't even notice."

Palamedes swallowed his incredibly embarrassing first response ('please do!'). He said, "I don't think that's entirely right, Cam," ruthlessly crushing the part of him that hoped she would take it as a challenge or an invitation to perform the experiment at once.

"Sure." Camilla snorted. "If I toss my shirt over the right book, I guess that would get your attention."

"Well, it's warm enough in here that there probably wouldn't be any immediate risk to your health."

"Excuse me? Who of us caught a cold by spending too much time in a room kept at a temperature ideal for the preservation of paper, rather than living, breathing human bodies?"

"That would be me, yes, thank you for reminding me." It had been a very uncomfortable experience for everyone involved. "Are you going to hold that against me for the rest of our lives?"

"It was my fault, too, Warden. I failed you."

"You could never," Palamedes said. He tried to find comfort in the fact that at least she'd said 'too'. "Cam, come on. You know that what happened was entirely my own fault. There was nothing you could have done. And we needed the data."

A mistake: Camilla's voice and expression hardened. Palamedes almost hoped she'd punch his shoulder again. Sooner or later, he had to get a bruise, and then any time it hurt, he'd remember this moment, remember Camilla, and that in all of the Library, she might very well be the only one who -

"We need data right now, Warden."

 _'I can't,'_ he almost said, to which her reply would be, _'Nonsense'_ , because of course he could, of course he hadn't turned into an idiot simply because he'd hit puberty, that would be ridiculous (if somewhat supported by the evidence of his peers, several of which had wasted impressive amounts of flimsy on objectively terrible poetry).

Camilla huffed. "What is _wrong_ with you? If I'd known sleeping with you would result in something like this, I would have thought twice."

"You've been sleeping with me forever."

There, that should have done it. A nice punch, not at full strength (he'd have hit the wall if she had) but with just enough force behind it to accomplish the desired effect.

"You know perfectly well that's not what I meant. God. Maybe this is why cavs and necros aren't supposed to do stuff like that. It turns them into complete morons."

 _'If I'm a complete moron right now, what would be the point in focusing on the data?'_ Best not: he'd gotten his bruise. Time to quit while he was still ahead.

"Lady Pent married hers, and she's widely considered an accomplished historian and necromancer."

"That's the Fifth." Camilla scoffed. "They can pull stuff like that, because they're too nice for anyone to tell them they can't. Also, besides the point, which is that you should stop talking and start working. People are counting on you, Warden. You can't let them down."

 _'Watch me.'_ People had been subjected to this nonsense for millennia, and _no one_ had come up with a cure? Something to ease the physical transition? A cryo pod to spend the years in question in a coma, safely kept away from the rest of society?

"The only person I can't let down is you, Cam." Point in case: he was clearly a menace to both himself and Camilla, whose tolerance for people spouting rubbish was low at the best of times.

Camilla grabbed him, her hands digging into his shoulders. It felt wonderful. He could very easily get used to being grabbed like that. "Stop. Stop this right now. God."

"I'm _trying_ ," Palamedes waile- said. "You don't think I actually _enjoy_ this, do you?"

Camilla blinked, then frowned. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself well enough last night."

 _'So did you.'_ Not a productive line of conversation. "Sexual intercourse had been biologically designed to be enjoyable. The human race would go extinct otherwise. Or that's the theory, I think; it's not an area of particular interest to me. My point is - "

Camilla kissed him. Palamedes chose to assume the alternative had been killing him.

"I'm leaving now before I punch you again. Solve this fucking thing soon enough, and we can have dinner in your rooms and go to bed early."

Oh. Well, that might work. "You don't have to leave. You were right, you're always right, I'm going to have to learn to deal with this. Please stay."

"I have sword practice," Camilla said, already withdrawing towards the door. "Have fun without me."

 _'Impossible.'_ He said, "All right, I will. Thanks. Enjoy sword practice."

She gave him a cheery salute. "Always do. See you later, Warden."

The room seemed both colder and emptier without her, both of which were logical and thus need not be dwelled upon.

Besides, he had a problem to solve.


End file.
